There's a turkey farm not too far from my parents' house. All autumn long, there are hundreds (thousands?) of white turkeys roaming the field. The day after Thanksgiving, however, the field is empty. Not a bird to be found. A moment of silence is required when we drive by...

Each year, my dad jokes about springing the turkeys -- freeing them before they become centerpieces on dinner tables. Of course, we never do. This year, we at least paid these rather unbecoming birds homage by taking their pictures.

Although we didn't spare any of our local turkeys from their doomed fate, I take pleasure in knowing that our President will pardon a few...